


The Color of a Blue Sky

by INKQueen



Series: Anthorann AU [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alien Planet, Angst, Crying, Death, Gen, I am warning you now, I'm crying, Rated teen for heavy duty angst and some strong language, Sorry Not Sorry, Swearing, the characters are crying, you're crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 15:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14059647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INKQueen/pseuds/INKQueen
Summary: Jason, Damian, and Tim respond to a backup request from Dick, who is working undercover on an alien planet.Based on a prompt idea submitted to camsthisky @ tumblr by Anonymous.





	The Color of a Blue Sky

Damian stared into the depths of the zeta tube that would take him to Grayson. The plasma swirled, crescendoing and receding. He couldn’t quite decide what color it was, somewhere between the color of starlight and fire.

“Well? We should probably get going sometime this century,” Todd grumbled. He tucked his helmet under his arm, flicked the hair out of his eyes, and stepped through the portal. Drake stepped up next, hood back, to walk through, but he stopped, turning back to check on Damian. Uncharacteristically.

“You’ve used a zeta tube before, yeah?”

Drake knew he had, of course. Damian nodded.

“Why is Todd coming along?”

Drake shrugged. “He was… around. And the more backup for Dick, the better, especially since Bruce couldn’t come.”

Father couldn’t come because they hadn’t told him they were going. He was busy, he said, and wouldn’t be sending official backup. But he hadn’t ordered them to stay, which was all the permission they needed.

“I still don’t see the need. You and I are sufficient backup for Grayson, no matter the situation.”

Damian was stalling. Drake knew it. He didn’t crouch down to Damian’s level and put a hand on his shoulder like Father or Grayson would have done.  Thank goodness, or Damian would have to kill him. Drake simply pressed his lips together and blinked gently in sympathy.

“It’ll be fine, you’re right. And Dick’s fine. He has diplomatic immunity as the emissary for the League and the Lantern Corps. John Stewart’s a smart guy. He’d never ask Dick to do anything too dangerous.”

Damian nodded again, and Drake turned and stepped through the portal. Damian took a deep breath and walked forward, preparing for the sensation of being shot trillions of miles through space.

It tickled harshly, as it always did, like his whole body was a mosquito bite he wanted to scratch. A moment later and he was out the other side, the fierce itch fading. Drake and Todd were waiting for him in the small terminal. Outside, he could see the warm light of midday.

“Took you guys long enough,” Todd grumbled. He always seemed to be grumbling to Damian’s mind. “So where do we wanna meet up later?”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘meet up later?’” Drake said. “We’re supposed to meet Dick at the house where he’s staying undercover. That’s where we’re going, that’s why we’re here.”

“Maybe that’s why _you’re_ here. I’m here for one thing firstly, then maybe I’ll help out our Golden Boy.” Todd held up two fingers, dropping them with each word. “Alien. Alcohol.”

Todd grinned at Drake’s look of outrage. “The drinks here on Anthorann are some of the best in the galaxy, I have it on good authority. There’s a central square in this city, right? I’ll meet you guys there at sunset. Should be a nice view.”

With that, Todd walked away jauntily, leaving Drake seething.

“It’s fine. He’s just doing it to be difficult,” Drake said, as much to himself as to Damian it seemed. “Just so long as he doesn’t wander out of the city into the poison atmosphere…”

Damian understood Drake’s frustration. Having Todd wandering around an alien city was another piece in an already complicated puzzle. But he wasn’t so concerned about Todd as he was about Grayson. He tugged on the material of Drake’s suit.

“Where is it we are going?”

Drake shook off his anger and pulled up the address and coordinates on his wrist comm. The letters were Rannian, a little circle twirling next to them while the computer worked on the translation. In a moment they were able to read it.

“Let’s go.”

***

Jason quickly found the Anthorannian version of a bar. He ducked inside and discovered it was already moderately busy. He sat down at the counter. The bartender came over. Jason plugged the request for a drink into the wrist comm Tim had given him. When the letters changed, he tilted it towards the bartender, who nodded, grabbed a bottle off the back wall and slid it to Jason.

Jason began fiddling with the settings on the wrist comm while he drank. He found one that translated conversation flow in real time, and he watched this one idly for a while. It was glitchy, barely keeping up with the chatter in the room, and it all tended to run together. Jason was taking another swig from his bottle when his eyes caught something in the scrolling text.

_...my position as advisingWings of Night held truefor the food I need…_

Jason knew that the Rannian language had a word form that was used when talking about a person, which was usually translated as capital letters. Tim wasn’t the only one who could do research, and Jason would have bet good money that they were talking about Dick. He wondered what Dick had done to get talked about in a rundown bar.

At that moment there was the bang of a drink being slammed and the clatter of a chair toppling over. The whole bar hushed, and Jason watched the translation feed. There was no jumble this time; there was only one audible conversation in the room.

_...dare disgrace him? Here is peace!_

An alien with long hair was standing, yelling at another across the table.

_You would throw that down in the sight of the Wings of Night? He is the savior!_

The alien getting yelled at shook their head and took another drink out of their bottle. The one with long hair stormed out, and the chatter resumed. Jason felt something ugly crawling up the inside of his chest. Of course Dick Grayson would do that. Who else but Dick would be sent on an _undercover_ mission to facilitate peace talks and end up the savior of a whole fucking planet. Jason tried to burn out the feeling with another swig of alcohol. He was going to give Goldie hell when he met up with them later. Backup his ass. Jason went for another gulp and found the bottle empty. He signaled the bartender for another.

***

On the walk to Dick’s address, Tim tried to contact him through commlink. Static. He wasn’t surprised; there were any number of reasons it wouldn’t work. It could be off, Dick might not be wearing it, or maybe the atmosphere here under the dome simply didn’t agree with their channel frequency.

Damian pointed out the address they were looking for. Tim knocked, and the door opened. In the doorway stood an alien, with a smaller one -- a child -- on their hip. Tim said hello, his tongue tripping on the language. The alien greeted them in return, looking them up and down. They seemed dubious about the suits Tim and Damian were wearing, but didn’t question it. Tim punched a phrase for translation onto his wrist display.

_I’m looking for someone. I thought he lived here. Do you know this person?_

The alien’s eyes scanned the message and glanced back up at Tim when they were done. Tim then pulled up a picture of Dick. The alien gasped and clutched the child to their chest. They began jabbering away, too fast for Tim to get a good translation.

“Wait, wait, hold on a sec,” he said, desperately trying to communicate what he wanted while fiddling with his wrist comm. He switched the mode, just catching the end of their sentence.

_… was living in this place? I did not know! It is our honor! You shall go to the square to find the Wings of Night!_

With that, the child began crying, and the alien retreated into their home, practically bowing as they closed the door.

Tim and Damian stood there on the doorstep a moment longer, trying to process. Damian turned away first

“Let us hurry,” he said, actually grabbing Tim’s arm. Tim allowed himself to be pulled along, farther up the street. The shadows were stretching, cool indigo, and they would need to meet Jason in the square soon. And now they didn’t know where to look for Dick.

“Drake,” Damian said quietly as they walked. “Why would that alien know Grayson as Nightwing? I thought he was working undercover.”

“Wait,” Tim said, halting them. “I want to listen to Dick’s message one more time. I was sure he gave that address, but it might have a clue as to what happened, or where near the square he might be living.”

As he said this, Tim stepped out of the middle of the street, finding a nearby stoop to sit on. Damian joined him. Tim pulled up the message that had arrived three days ago. It was just a voice recording.

“Bruce, and Tim if you’re there, things are getting precarious here on Anthorann. The elections are all set to go, but tensions are super high. I hate to ask, but would you send someone along as backup? One of the Lanterns who can keep a low profile, so not Hal, or maybe Tim or Kate? I’m afraid the ex-dictator, Camord E Zan, will resort to drastic measures to keep the elections from going through. Anyway, I hope this gets to you before the elections, but I can’t send this by zeta. They’re all shut down ‘til after the elections for safety, so we’re going old-fashioned. I’m staying at these coordinates...”

Tim stopped the recording. There was no image, just an Anthorannian time and date stamp, which would have been nearly two months ago. The message had arrived as fast as it could. It had arrived late. Trillions of miles could only be crossed so fast. Yesterday the zeta tube had opened back up. Tim had been monitoring it. Either the elections had gone well, or been canceled. For the sake of Dick’s mission, Tim hoped it was the first. They could collect him and go home. But there was a bundle of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

Damian was staring fiercely at the comm, as if it might produce Dick then and there.

“Come on.” Tim stood up. “Let’s go to the square and see what we can see. Dick’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

***

Jason had to quit drinking early. Sure enough, the alcohol here was good. It was also stronger than Jason was used to, and Dick would never let him hear the end of it if he showed up to a mission obviously drunk. So he quit and left the bar early. The first of the three suns was barely touching the horizon, making the earthy architecture glow pink and warm yellow. Jason wandered toward what he assumed was the center of the city. After a few blocks he turned a corner, and a different glow filled the skyline. The street ran down into the central square, where Jason could see a chunk of an enormous hologram, radiating electric blue light. Even with the buildings in the way, Jason could see what it was. Groaning internally, he walked down into the square and out into the open.

Above him, hanging in the still air, was an enormous hologram of a blue hawk insignia. Dick’s symbol. Jason walked up to the base, scuffing his feet and feeling a lot of feelings he was ignoring. So Dick had his own monument. Great.

At the base, the projector twinkled between the petals of hundreds upon hundreds of blue flowers. Cobalt overlapped azures and sapphires, blues of every shade, strewn about and piled up at the base of the monument. Jason brushed a few aside, revealing the base to be a rectangular stone slab.

There was something wasn’t right with the courtyard. People were passing through, but it was too quiet, like a church or… Jason spotted a plaque at the head of the base. He walked over to it, hands in pockets, expecting to get a good laugh at whatever Dick had done to make these people go crazy over him. He plugged the lettering into his wrist translator.

_In memory of the Earth hero who died on this spot to save a people who were not his own from tyranny and oppression. May kindness and peace reign in the galaxy and in our hearts. May the wings of night watch over us all._

_For the Nightwing._

A soft wind blew through the courtyard, picking up blue petals and taking the world with it, stealing the ground from underneath Jason’s feet. This wasn’t just a monument; it was a memorial. Jason’s mind chewed slowly on that fact, afraid to swallow. It was a memorial, not a monument. Memorial, not monument. Memorial, like in Washington DC. Memorial, like for fallen soldiers. For fallen heroes. Except this was for his brother.

Jason’s eyes drifted back to the base of the hologram, and he saw the large stone rectangle for what it was. Six feet long, three feet high. A coffin.

“Guess you don’t need our help anymore, huh Dick,” he muttered, but the words couldn’t fend off the sensation of sinking when they were empty of venom.

Dick was… Dick was dead. Jason made himself think it. And he was, no, his body was probably lying not two feet away. Unseen, shrouded in stone.

The air suddenly smelled of wet earth and pine and sweat and fear. Jason locked his knees so as not to fall over. He felt sick.

He’s dead he’s deadhe’sdead he’s not you he’s gone far far away and he’s not coming back he’s gone and… It just made Jason feel worse. He realized the hands in his pockets -- his hands, though they didn’t feel like his just now -- were trembling. He took them out, clasping them together so hard his nails drew curls of blood from his palms.

He was afraid. Afraid of what he didn’t know, but he couldn’t collapse here couldn’t cry here.

Jason looked across the square to see two figures, scarlet against the navy and orange of the evening, coming around the corner. The red helmet barely held under his arm clattered to the pavement and he took off sprinting.

***

Damian rounded the corner to see a something barrelling towards him and Drake, brown and black, a streak of white. Then Todd was there, a hand on each of their shoulders, his grip crushing, shaking.

“Don’t. Turn around. Don’t look.”

There was something wrong with Todd’s face as he tried desperately to steer them back the way they’d come. Steer them away. Away from what?

Just then, Damian caught a glimpse of what was behind Todd’s shoulder, the insignia against the sunset. He gasped, pulling air into his body, but there didn’t seem to be enough air on this alien planet.

He twisted viciously out of Todd’s grasp. He ran to the center of the square. The shining memorial towered above him, touching the sky with spread wings.

Under the light of the blue memorial and the orange sky, Damian fell to his knees. He did need to read the plaque to tell what the long gray stone base was.  

They were late, too late too late.

There was screaming in the air. Somebody grabbed him from behind, physically turning him away from the memorial. Damian was enveloped, cradled by somebody warm and shaking. He bit down on the hard leather of a jacket fold and the screaming stopped. Todd didn’t seem to mind, just held the shuddering Damian.

Someone was speaking. Drake. He just said one word, his voice like crushed china.

“How…”

Damian felt Todd shake his head. And yelling split the air again, hoarse, guttural, before dissolving into dry sobs nearby. But Damian was glad in a small way. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to picture it. In his mind Grayson would remain whole. But already Richard’s face was becoming slippery.

Damian clutched harder at Todd’s chest, grasping tangibility. At least he wasn’t alone. At least he wasn’t alone, like Grayson had been. Like Grayson had been, alone on an alien planet far from home and alone…

Damian tilted his head back and his tears ran down out of his vision. His view was filled with an azure lit sky against an orange one, blue petals drifting in between them and the stars that were just starting to appear.


End file.
